


Stolen Dance

by cloneclubbingcreampuff



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloneclubbingcreampuff/pseuds/cloneclubbingcreampuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patsy blinks as Delia's words circle around her brain until they finally settle.  Love.  Such a small, innocuous word.  Four letters.  A word that everyone seems to know the meaning of.  Patsy remembers a time she was terrified of learning it, because the twinges of desire she experienced were never directed at men. No, she only ever felt the stirrings of want for women, but that had never translated to love until she met Delia Busby. </p><p>It had hit her like a bolt, the way Delia could make her smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Dance

Delia's hands are hot on her hips, and Patsy wishes she could feel this invincible all of the time. Billie Holiday's voice is crooning from the record player, filling up the space of her and Trixie's shared bedroom, and in that moment, Patsy is able to forget. Forget that this beautiful thing growing between her and Delia is a secret, will always be a secret. Forget all of the fear that follows her, creating a hyper vigilance that stops her from being truly happy. She's always so careful of what she says, what she does, even around those she calls her friends. But here, now, she doesn't have to pretend. 

They're dancing in a slow circle in the middle of the room, and Patsy feels the tension ease out of her spine as Delia moves her hands higher, higher until they're touching her shoulders. 

"You can relax," Delia whispers, stepping closer until her breasts are lightly brushing the top of Patsy's ribs. She's always liked how she and Delia fit together, how easy it is to fall into her touch. "Trixie won't be back for at least two hours, since I'm sure she's still at the dance."

"I know," Patsy says, biting her lip. "She's always liked dances. I had a good time, but I must say, this is nice, too." 

"It is," Delia agrees, then steps away to change the record as it falls silent. Frank Sinatra's 'Come Fly With Me' soon starts, and then Delia comes back into Patsy's arms. Patsy doesn't overthink it, just lets her hands wrap around Delia's smaller frame until they are locked behind Delia's back and their bodies are flush against each other. The rhythm of the music carries them to another place, as if they really are flying away from Poplar and all of their responsibilities.

Delia continues: "Dancing with you is nice."

When Patsy kisses her, it's sweet, firm and full of the promise that this kiss won't be their last. The thrill will always be there, thrumming against Patsy's chest. It's the realest thing in her life right now, the only thing that makes her sure she'll be able to survive hiding like this. 

"We won't have to hide forever," Delia says after Patsy pulls away. She stares at Delia, wondering if she's able to hear her thoughts. "I know you. I can read you like a book, Pats, and I know you're feeling guilty right now. Don't, please. Not tonight, all right?" 

"What else am I supposed to feel? I can't treat the way you deserve to be. I can't marry you, or love you openly. What--what do I really have to offer you?" Patsy murmurs, the words spilling out of her, giving voice to what has been plaguing her for so long. 'Why me?' Is what she really wants to ask, but the words get lodged in her throat. She's afraid of the answer, because all of this is too real. 

"What do you have to offer me?" Delia asks incredulously. "How can you even ask such a thing? I love you, you idiot," she says, giving Patsy's left shoulder a light slap. She doesn't stop dancing, even as she scolds her, and Patsy smirks inwardly. Delia getting angry shouldn't be cute, but it is. 

Patsy blinks as Delia's words circle around her brain, until they finally settle. Love. Such a small, innocuous word. Four letters. A word that everyone seems to know the meaning of. Patsy remembers a time she was terrified of learning it, because the twinges of desire she experienced were never directed at men. No, she only ever felt the stirrings of want for women, but that had never translated to love until she met Delia Busby. 

It had hit her like a bolt, the way Delia could make her smile.

"Say something," she hears, and glances down to see Delia biting her lip. She's nervous, Patsy realizes. She thinks she said the word too soon. Patsy almost laughs at that notion, then clears her throat. 

"I...tolerate you," Patsy says, then smirks as Delia lets out a disbelieving huff and slaps her shoulder a second time. 

They keep dancing until they've listened to three more records and the moon is high in the sky. Patsy catches a glimpse of the yellow tint of the street lamp shining through the window, and opens it to let in the cool night air. Delia locks her hand in hers as they walk to the nurse's home, and they steal a goodnight kiss near the doorway. It feels safe and dangerous at once, but when Delia smiles at her, then squeezes her hand once more before disappearing inside, Patsy finds she doesn't care about the risks. 

She walks back to Nonnatus with a smile on her face, and every twenty steps or so, her hand comes up to graze at her lips, remembering just how good Delia tastes.


End file.
